


Forgiveness, Can You Imagine?

by Fangirlingmanaged



Series: Even More Angst Nobody Asked For (AKA Bonus Content) [12]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Feels, Steve Needs a Hug, Tony Feels, Tony Has Trust Issues, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8303542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlingmanaged/pseuds/Fangirlingmanaged
Summary: In the end, Steve thinks Tony is infinitely stronger than he will ever be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ma feels wrecked me

Steve sits on the window seat in of the communal wing of the New Avengers facility and wonders how everything outside seems as though nothing monumental has changed. The big willow to the left that had been his favorite before he… went away, for example, looks remarkably unchanged with its hanging branches and gentle swaying in the breeze. It looks no different from before Steve’s entire world shattered into tiny, razor-sharp shards. The more he looks at it, the more he irrationally resents it. It should not look so undamaged, he decides, at the very least it should look slightly torn or perhaps charred from a lightning bolt it couldn’t withstand. It should, he decides, resemble a little of the chaos inside his mind. His heart.

He knew, as certainly as his love for his Ma or his friendship with Bucky or his fascination with Peggy, that earning Tony’s forgiveness would not be easy. Hell, he’d known since before he and Tony began this… _thing_ that nothing about the futurist would be easy. He had had conviction, however, had known that he was determined to be with the other man. To gain his favor. Earn his love. Deserve his trust. It had seemed so clear, if not easy, the utter _need_ he had for making the other man believe in his good intentions. He had gone through everything, he’d thought, trying to prove himself to Tony’s friends. That was the easy part. Convincing _Tony_ had been more grueling.

Now, though, he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know where he’d lost sight of that goal. He’d tried so hard, it seemed, for so long and it had been so easy to break. It had taken less than a month for him to destroy his hard-earned trust, and destroy the other man in the process. The memory of their previous argument hits him with as much, if not more, force than it had when it happened. He leaned his head against the window and clenched his eyes shut.

                                                                                      ***

After their tentative truce in Tony’s bedroom, Steve had been cautiously optimistic about their future. Tony had passed out from exhaustion against his chest even as his breath continued to hiccup with his crying. Steve’s eyes had been grimy and swollen from his crying, but he hadn’t really minded. Something, some primal and long-ignored part of him, had opened up and gushed everything he’d been holding inside when he had Tony back in his arms.

Something had irreparably broken, and he didn’t know if he was better or worse for it. What he did know, however, was that he wouldn’t be able to keep everything hidden anymore. At least not from Tony.

The next morning, however, had seen his nightmare return. Tony had been utterly _ruthless_ in his manner. His words and his actions and his constant niggling. Steve had known, he’d _known,_ that forgiveness would be hard won, but he had never expected what he got. He had prepared himself for months in Wakanda, for everything that Tony might throw at him, and yet he had still been surprised. The words, the spite, it had all hurt, but the very worst thing had been the desperation in his voice.

It hadn’t even been a buildup. It hadn’t started with simple snide comments and divulged from there. No, Tony had gone full on, and Steve had seen him as he had that first night on the hellicarrier with Loki. Had seen the conviction in his eyes. _I have a plan. Attack._

_Where’d you leave Bucky?_

Steve had stuttered through a response. Had looked at the ground, and had missed it entirely. The ragged pain, the frustration, the anger… the _agony_ Tony must have gone through to even speak to him at all.

Each jab had been sharper than the last after that. _Days_ of subtle stabs that went deeper and deeper.

Until that morning, when Tony had been stumbling through the halls with that ragged faraway look on his face and the incessant mumbling he didn’t seem able to stop, and had literally crashed into Steve. The soldier had been on his way to the kitchen from the gym, and had instinctively wrapped his arms around the other man. Longing and a sense of _right_ had hit him so suddenly he was blindsided. For a second, he had been unable to remember the circumstances in which they found themselves. All he had been able to think was warm skin, motor oil smell, and _Tony_. He had been lost in a waking dream, but it had lasted only a second.

Tony had wrenched himself from his arms with a violence that surprised him enough to send him stumbling. The shorter man had been all but rabid in his rage. He slapped his arms away, put his hands on the big man’s chest and pushed with all his might. Once. Twice. Until he was far enough away. Even with the pain of having him so openly despise him, Steve had sensed the other man’s trembling.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Tony had hissed at him. It was such a turn from the night before that Steve had to swallow to not sob.

“Tony, I don’t want a fight,” he’d responded raggedly. The other man had taken a step back, assaulted by a memory Steve wasn’t privy to, before looking defiantly at the soldier. _No,_ Steve wanted to tell him, _don’t pretend. Don’t try to be strong. Don’t hide._

“And you always get what you want, don’t you, Rogers? Your precious Avengers, your family?” Tony spat at him. It was filled with the type of venom Steve had never heard directed at anyone but the mention of Tiberius Stone or when someone was stupid enough to bring up Obadiah Stane.

“They’re your family too, Tony,” Steve had said wearily. Since their less than ideal reunion, _that_ had been an argument that had been rehashed time and time again. Steve knew it had been the wrong thing to say, like every day before, but had hoped that if he said it enough then Tony might get a bit of truth from it. Would start believing him.

“Bull _shit!”_ the genius exploded. His hands were thrown up in the air. “You may eat my food, you may use my money, you may crap in my toilets but _you_ ,” Tony stepped closer and jabbed a finger in his direction, “are _not_ ,” another step, another jab, “and were _never_ ,” he was in front of him now, jabbing his finger against the soldier’s chest, “my fucking family! Family doesn’t do that to each other! Family doesn’t abandon someone when they start to get difficult. Family doesn’t lie to each other! Family doesn’t—they don’t—fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tony wrapped his arms around his midsection.

Steve stood rooted to the spot he was standing in, unable to do anything but stare at the man he loved break in front of him. Steve had thought that first night, when they’d cried in each other’s arms, that something had broken. And he had been right about that much; only… he’d expected himself to be broken beyond repair. Not Tony. That’s not what he wanted. That’s not what he would _ever_ want.

“Family doesn’t lie like that,” Tony whispered, and Steve could tell it had been more to himself than to the soldier. “Family isn’t supposed to hurt you like this.”

“Tony—“Steve made the mistake of reaching for him.

“No!” Tony screamed, slapping his hand away. “You are never getting anywhere near me, you hear me? You won’t—you can’t—you are not Howard—I won’t let you!”

“Tony, that’s not the point!” Steve argued back while his insides turned to mush. Jesus Christ, he had turned into Howard to Tony. The man who had hurt him and jaded him beyond repair since he was a child, and now Steve was in the same category. How was Steve supposed to come back from that? “That’s not what they wanted! That’s not what any of us wanted. Christ, Tony, we loved you. We _still_ do! We fucked up; we _all_ did! Don’t tell me you believe for a second your hands are clean, they’re not! None of our hands! We hurt each other, Tony, that’s what family does. We hurt each other, and then we work it out. We fix it. We don’t give up on each other; we don’t give up on the people we love.”

“Oh, that’s fucking _rich_ , you goddamn hypocrite,” Tony’s hands fisted like he wanted to hit him. Steve wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. Even saying the words, something about them didn’t quite ring true. “You know what, fuck you! Fuck you and your lies! Family doesn’t give up on each other? Well, congratu-fucking-lations, Captain! You proved that! You proved that when you left me,” Tony shoved him back hard, “to die,” another shove, “in Siberia,” one more, “Alone,” and another, “and fucking terrified,” Steve stumbled on the next as he imagined him there, “with no way to escape if hydra or Ross or anyone else found me! You picked your fucking family, asshole! It just wasn’t me.” All the fight seemed to evaporate from the other man, leaving the husk that Steve had seen the past days. “It’s never me.”

“I can’t change what happened,” Steve said hoarsely, staring at the ground. He wanted to hold himself and hide. To never be in Tony’s presence again when he felt so small. “I will never be done making up for what I did to us, baby. I—All I _can_ do is tell you how fucking sorry I am. I can’t—Tony, I can’t breathe right without you. I thought coming back would solve everything. I thought once we were all together again—well, I’m a stupid idealist, of course I did. No matter how much I want to go back and kick my own ass for leaving you, I cant do it. I can’t fix what I’ve done, but I can rectify our future. Despite everything, I still love you. I’m still _in love_ with you, sweetheart. And if it takes me another seventy years to earn your forgiveness, I can’t do anything but try. I can’t lose you again, Tony, it’d break me.” He’s looked up to see the shell-shocked expression on the other man’s face.

“I—I—I don’t—you—I—“Tony hugged his arms around himself so tightly around himself that Steve was worried he’d hurt himself. “I can’t.” was all the genius had been able to say before beating a hasty retreat.

                                                                                      ***

Steve had been berating himself since that morning. For losing his temper and yelling at Tony. For being too tongue-tied to tell him everything he’d wanted to tell him since they’d started fighting. For bringing the team into their argument. He’d done everything so ass backwards, he could have beat himself. He’d spent a good hour freaking out over Tony’s state of mind afterwards. He had wavered between anger and terror as he wondered if he’d been the reason for another one of Tony’s panic attacks. The thought alone had managed to make his lunch make a comeback.

He banged his head against the windowsill as he tried to get his mind to clear. Drawing usually helped him focus. Made him get out of his head enough to find a solution to his turmoil, but it wasn’t doing any good. He’d start with something innocuous like the bench in the back garden, and up drawing the scene from one of their dates. When they were still happy. When Tony still knew he loved him.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Steve just about jumped out of his skin at the voice. He turned his head to catch Tony standing in the threshold to his studio. His hair was damp, and his beard had been trimmed, but he still looked horribly tired. The dark circles under his eyes were near purple, and his lips were chapped; not to mention the shallowness in his cheekbones. God, his Tony.

“I can leave,” the words felt like acid on his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to leave his family, his home, the man he loved, but… if having him gone helped Tony then he would grit his teeth and do. Anything to allow his man to heal.

“You don’t get it!” Tony almost yelled. When Steve got to his feet, to stupidly offer him comfort or get him to stop screaming, he didn’t know. The genius took a step back, fear flashing in his eyes, and Steve recoiled. _What have I done?_ He wondered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s fine,” the soldier’s voice cracked. “Tony, it’s okay. Can you come in here? Can you—can you help me understand?”

“I—I don’t—“Tony took a deep breath and took a tentative step into the room. His eyes scanned around quickly, and he tilted his head when he arrived at the easel. He wrung his hands together, and glanced up into Steve’s eyes, but dropped his gaze when he realized the soldier was looking at him. “I broke your easel,” he blurted out, and bit his lip. His shoulders hunched as if he expected Steve to start screaming.

Before, he might have. He might have been angry enough to rant at Tony, but now? There was so much between them. There were so many more important things they needed to fix. Needed to repair. A fucking easel wasn’t going to keep him up at night.

“It’s okay, Tony, I don’t mind. You fixed it, right?”

“I got you a new one,” Tony said with a little wrinkle between his brows. He was still staring at his hands, but he tilted his head in confusion. Like he couldn’t understand why Steve wasn’t yelling. God. “Like the one you said you wanted. With the… with cherry wood and the—the little—extra thingies and the—“

“The color wheel attachment,” Steve whispered as he finally paid attention to his new art supply. “God, Tony,” he said brokenly. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“I can’t keep arguing with you, Cap,” Tony said, his voice just as wrecked. “I can’t keep arguing with you, it’s killing me. I can’t sleep, I can’t go down to the lab and clear my head… I can’t do anything. But I don’t want you to go, either. It—having you here hurts, so fucking much, but i—I think—I’m so afraid having you gone might kill me. It almost did. Before.”

Steve’s mind flashed back to the sight of the gun in Tony’s bedside table, that first night back. To the icy fear that crawled up his spine seeing it there. Knowing that it wasn’t meant for protection. He’d taken it out and crushed it with his bare hands. He still knew it wasn’t even remotely enough to keep Tony safe from himself.

“Tell me what to do. Please, Tony, tell me how to help you.”

“I don’t know!” he cried. He sat on the floor, right there three paces into the room, and wrapped his arms around his knees. “I don’t know how you can help. I don’t know if anyone can. I don’t know how to trust you again, I don’t know how to believe you… and I don’t know how to stop loving you. And I wanna tell you to leave, I wanna tell you to grab your shit, and grab your fucking team, and get the fuck out of my house, but I can’t. Because you made me trust you, you all did, you made me believe we were a family, and now I don’t know how to make myself stop. Why’d you do that?!” the expression on Tony’s face was beyond Steve’s ability to describe. He was crying, not sobbing, but oh, it was so much worse. It was like someone had wrung everything out of him and had left him hollow. “Why’d you have to make me believe you?! That’s not—you shouldn’t—why were you that cruel? What did I do, Steve?”

It was the first time Tony had said his name in months. And God, did it hurt.

Steve was up and kneeling in front of him in an instant. For a terrifying second, Tony looked like he was afraid enough to call the suits, but he didn’t. He just clenched his eyes shut and buried his head in his arms. He was outright sobbing then, and Steve could do nothing but wrap his arms around his shaking lover and hold him.

“I can’t keep telling you how sorry I am, Tony,” Steve said wretchedly into his hair. “It’s not doing any good. It just keeps hurting us both. I can’t keep telling you I wish I had done things different. They’re already done, I’ve already hurt you, and I will never take that back. I wish we had a clean slate, baby. I wish we could start again. I want that with you, more than anything, but I don’t think that’s possible for us anymore. All I know, all I’m one hundred percent certain of, is that I am still madly in love with you, Tony Stark. And I want you, beaten and bruised and with all your flaws. I want you more than anything else in the world. I want you when you’re cranky in the morning because you haven’t had your coffee. I want you when you give me shocks after working in the lab. I want you when you’re excited about having Peter over. I want you when you get on silly competitions with Rhodey—“

“Rhodey wants to drop you from Stark Tower,” Tony mumbled into his arms.

Steve chuckled wetly and hugged him close, infinitely grateful to have him talking. “Yeah? I would probably let him.”

Tony shook his head weakly and sniffled. “I don’t want him to. Pepper can stab you with her heels, though.”

“I think that’s just ‘cause you can’t stop her even if you tried,” Steve says fondly.

“That’s true,” Tony says quietly. They spend a few more moments together in silence. Steve prays they might have found some footing, and that Tony won’t go back to openly despising him. He hopes they won’t keep opening their wounds every time they’re near each other. “I miss this,” Tony tells him softly. His whole body is tense, and Steve is quite sure the admission costs him dearly.

“I miss _you_ ,” Steve tells him. Tony only nods against his chest. “Can we, Tony?”

“I don’t know,” and this time Steve is sure the admission pains him. Tony is never comfortable when he doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings. It’s one of the reasons their fall out seems even more monumental. “What if I can’t—“

_Forgive_

_Forget_

_Move on._

_Trust you._

“I don’t—it’s—it’d hurt me,” Steve says wretchedly. It hurts to admit, but he figures he owes Tony every ounce of honesty he has. He’s lied to this man enough for a life-time. “It’d destroy me, Tony, but I would understand. I just—I just want to love you, Tony Stark.”

Tony is quite for a very long time. Steve is half afraid that he’s fallen asleep again and they would have to start the cycle all over again. He’d do it. he’d go through this with Tony every single day for the rest of their lives if it meant having him.

Slowly, one of Tony’s hands creeps up from under his head. He doesn’t look at Steve, and he’s still hugging himself, but that one had creeps up to where Steve’s is at the back of his head. Quietly, so unlike himself, Tony grabs hold of the soldier’s fingers tightly.

“Okay, Steve. Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so the Hamilton soundtrack still gives me feels


End file.
